Opinion
By Tony Onyima
THE Department of State Services (DSS) has sought to “set the records straight” regarding the recent airport encounter involving Professor Okey Ndibe at the Murtala Muhammed International Airport. In its statement, the agency insists that the renowned writer and academic was neither arrested nor detained. Instead, it says he was merely subjected to a routine “interface” as part of an ongoing review of legacy watchlists dating back many years.
At first glance, the statement appears reassuring. It presents a picture of a security agency engaged in institutional housekeeping, reviewing old watchlist actions to ensure that outdated security designations do not unfairly burden citizens. It also projects a commendable commitment to professionalism, respect for human rights, and adherence to the rule of law.
Yet, a closer reading reveals that the statement leaves several important questions unanswered. Indeed, it may have generated more questions than it resolved.
The first issue concerns the distinction the DSS seeks to draw between an “interface” and a detention. The agency emphatically denies detaining Prof. Ndibe. However, it acknowledges that he was intercepted at the airport and taken through a process before being cleared to proceed. The critical question is whether he was free to leave during this period. If a traveller is unable to continue his journey until security officials complete their inquiries, many would argue that the practical effect is indistinguishable from a detention, regardless of the terminology employed. The debate, therefore, is not merely about words but about the reality of the experience.
Equally puzzling is the discrepancy in the encounter’s duration. While Prof. Ndibe publicly stated that he spent more than three hours in the custody of DSS officials, the agency claims that he was cleared after “barely an hour” of interaction. Both accounts cannot be accurate at the same time without additional explanation. Was the DSS referring only to the period of active questioning while excluding waiting time? Was there a delay caused by administrative procedures? The public deserves a clearer account of the timeline.
Beyond the question of duration lies a more troubling one: would this encounter have received the same attention within the DSS had it not attracted significant media coverage and public concern? Prof. Ndibe is not an anonymous traveller. He is a respected public intellectual with a national and international profile. Within hours of his airport ordeal, news of the incident had spread across social media platforms, newsrooms, and civil society circles. Calls and inquiries reportedly came from different parts of the world.
It is therefore legitimate to ask whether the outcome would have been the same if the incident had occurred in obscurity. Would the review process have been accelerated? Would explanations have been forthcoming? Would the matter have attracted the same urgency if the person involved were an ordinary citizen without a public platform or influential networks? These are uncomfortable questions, but they go to the heart of accountability in a democratic society. Institutions should function according to clear rules and procedures, not according to the volume of public attention generated by a particular case.
Perhaps the most significant revelation in the statement is the admission that Prof. Ndibe has remained on a DSS watchlist since January 29, 2013. That disclosure immediately raises a fundamental question: why was he placed on the watchlist in the first place?
The DSS explains the process for reviewing old watchlist actions but says nothing about the original basis for Prof. Ndibe’s inclusion. Was he suspected of criminal activity? Was there intelligence suggesting a threat to national security? Was his watchlisting connected in any way to his public writings, political commentary, or professional activities? Without understanding the original grounds, the public can’t assess whether the watchlisting was justified or an overreach of state power.
Even more troubling is the duration of the watchlisting. Thirteen years is an extraordinarily long period for any citizen to remain under security scrutiny. If the concerns that prompted the watchlisting were serious, one would expect the public to know whether they were ever substantiated. If they were not substantiated, then the obvious question is why the designation persisted for more than a decade. The statement offers no insight into whether periodic reviews were conducted, whether any new evidence emerged over the years, or whether any independent oversight existed to prevent indefinite listing.
The DSS itself inadvertently reinforces concerns about administrative inertia by citing Lanre Arogundade as evidence of the success of its review process. The agency notes that Arogundade’s delisting was approved in May 2025 after more than a decade on the watchlist. What the statement does not emphasise is that Arogundade’s ordeal on the watchlist reportedly dates back to 1995. In other words, a Nigerian citizen remained under security restriction for roughly three decades without ever being charged with a crime.
Rather than demonstrating institutional efficiency, that example raises disturbing questions about administrative tardiness and the absence of effective review mechanisms. If a watchlist entry can survive for thirty years without judicial scrutiny, criminal prosecution, or formal resolution, then the problem is not merely one of outdated records. It is one of systemic accountability. A watchlist is not supposed to become a permanent administrative sentence imposed without trial, conviction, or opportunity for challenge.
The case also casts doubt on the reassurance that Prof. Ndibe’s watchlist status is currently being reviewed for final delisting. If the experience of Arogundade is any guide, “review” can become a process measured not in months but in decades. Citizens may therefore be forgiven for wondering whether review mechanisms are genuinely proactive or whether they often move only when public pressure, advocacy campaigns, media attention, or institutional embarrassment force action.
The DSS further states that Prof. Ndibe’s case had already been reviewed and “downgraded.” Yet the agency does not explain what that term means. Does a downgraded watchlist status imply that the individual is no longer considered a threat? Does it indicate that the original concerns have largely been resolved? Or does it simply mean that the level of scrutiny has been reduced? The absence of a clear definition leaves the public to speculate.
The logic of the airport encounter itself is also difficult to follow. According to the DSS, the purpose of the interaction was to facilitate Prof. Ndibe’s final delisting. But if his case had already been reviewed and downgraded, why was another airport stop necessary? Why could the process not have been completed administratively? Why was he not informed beforehand that his status was under review? The explanation appears paradoxical: a citizen must first endure another round of questioning before he can be relieved of the burden of being questioned.
Another recurring phrase in the statement is “international best practices.” The DSS invokes this standard several times but does not identify the specific practices to which it refers. In many democratic jurisdictions, individuals are afforded mechanisms to challenge government listings that affect their rights and freedoms. There are often procedures for notification, review, appeal, and redress. Does the Nigerian system provide similar safeguards? If so, the statement misses an opportunity to explain them.
Indeed, one of the most striking omissions concerns due process. What legal framework governs the watchlist system? What criteria determine who is placed on a watchlist? How long can a person remain listed? What avenues exist for appeal or review? Are citizens notified when they are watchlisted? Can they challenge the decision? The statement refers generally to “the provisions of the law” but does not identify the specific legal authority underpinning the entire process.
The DSS also urges affected persons to report to its headquarters if they believe they are on a watchlist. Yet this recommendation raises another question: how are citizens expected to know they are watchlisted in the first place? If individuals are not formally notified, they may only discover their status when they are stopped at airports or border crossings. Such a system places citizens in the peculiar position of having to guess whether their names have been entered into a government database affecting their freedom of movement.
To be sure, the statement successfully highlights the professionalism of the officers involved. Prof. Ndibe himself acknowledged that the DSS personnel who interacted with him were courteous and respectful. That is commendable and should be encouraged. However, courtesy alone does not resolve the larger issues at stake. A process may be conducted politely and still raise serious concerns about transparency, accountability, proportionality, and civil liberties.
In the final analysis, the most consequential aspect of the DSS statement may be what it inadvertently confirms. It confirms that a prominent Nigerian intellectual remained on a security watchlist for thirteen years. It confirms that he continued to be subjected to scrutiny whenever he entered the country. It confirms that another Nigerian, Lanre Arogundade, remained on a watchlist for approximately three decades without criminal charges before his eventual removal. And it confirms that even now, the public remains uninformed about the reasons that justified such prolonged surveillance.
The real issue, therefore, extends far beyond Prof. Ndibe. It concerns the many other Nigerians who may be on similar watchlists without their knowledge. What criteria govern these lists? Who reviews them? How often are they updated? What safeguards exist against error, abuse, or indefinite retention? More importantly, what protections exist for citizens who lack the visibility, influence, and public support that helped draw attention to Prof. Ndibe’s experience?
Until those questions are answered, the debate will not be settled by whether the airport encounter is described as an arrest, a detention, or an interface. The central concern is not semantics. It is transparency, accountability, and the protection of citizens’ rights in a democratic society.
***Tony Onyima, PhD, a former managing director/Editor-in-chief of The Sun, teaches at Paul University, Awka.
A.I
June 3, 2026
Tags: Prof Okey Ndibe Tony Onyima